Tension Release
by RAVen05
Summary: Optimus Prime discovers the key to keeping his Autobots relaxed. But what kind of Autobots would they be if they didn't offer to...lend a hand when needed? Thus the escapades of Prime and the residents of the Ark.
1. The Opening Act

**Author's Note:** Just a little something originally released to the TF Kink Meme on LJ. This is the original part I wrote. I'm slowly adding more as the interest was high enough for more.

Title: Tension Release  
Summary: Optimus goes off on his own to find some good old-fashioned tension release, not realizing that he's accidentally broadcasting himself to all the Ark.  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did.

* * *

**_Tension Release: The Opening Act_**

Optimus Prime always regarded himself as a solid figure, never bending to Megatron's constant efforts of taking over, destroying something, or otherwise being an astro pain in the aft. He made sure that no one knew just how stressed out and tense he was becoming. But the tension had to be released somehow and today's battle had pushed him to the point of desperation and Optimus found himself at the edge of self-control.

For that, he was grateful for the auxiliary security sectors, built as more of a backup base for a worse-case scenario that anything else. Being sure no one else was around for a third time, he leaned back against the offline panels. With one hand bracing him against the panel, the other began trailing down his chest, hesitant at first but growing more confident. He reached in through openings in his chest and sides, sliding across wires, sending sparks of pleasurable energy out across his body.

It'd bee far too long since he last touched himself and it was like relearning what he liked. Primus, it felt good, but he didn't dare take too long, not wanting to be found like this, lubricant already coating the inside of his codpiece.

Red Alert stared as, one-by-one, the security monitors switched over to the same screen. Designed to alert of any security breach in that section, the system would hone in all available resources to that area and any potential threat. Optimus Prime working himself towards an overload was_ not_ a security breach. Granted, it had taken a moment for Red Alert to realize what was happening, but when the Autobot leader let out a low, soft groan, it became all too clear. He fidgeted and reached out a hand to switch off the feed but paused.

He'd been so stressed out lately, what with the increase of attacks from the Decepticons, but his schedule didn't allow for a lot of downtime lately. No one would know if he kept watching and even…joined in on Optimus' idea, right? Red Alert glanced back at the door, verifying it was locked and that the room was empty. Slowly, he pulled back his hand and let it rest on his thigh. A moment later, after another groan filtered through the speakers, the hand began to move and Red Alert lost himself to those pleasant touches, assured that security feed was for his optics only and no one would have to know.

Except for the fact that for the Auxiliary Security area, the coding was different and would alert all Autobots of a breach. Every one on base was now receiving their own personal feed of their leader rolling his head back as he pulled off his codpiece and began stroking his stiff cable. Some of the more honorable bots attempted to locate their leader but were quickly dissuaded by obstacles in their path; namely, horny bots with convincing touches.

And so, oblivious of the near orgy going on in the rest of the base, Optimus began pumping his cable, intakes working hard to cool his heating systems. He gasped and let go of the panel with his one hand and just let himself slide to the floor, legs spread wide. His free hand slid down the inside of his thighs, pushing inward to rub against wires and energon lines. His body jerked and he let out a louder groan, head turning side to side as pleasure continued building up within him.

Optimus moved his hand up his thigh and grunted quietly as he fingered his port, coating the finger with lubricant. _Slag_, but it had been a long time! He pushed his finger in, still pumping his cable, and moaned, his finger hitting nearly all the tiny nodes within his port. His body began to shake now as he approached overload, only a little more and he would finally have the release he'd been longing for!

He slid a second finger into his port and bucked his hips, intakes sputtering as he began thrusting the fingers in and out of his port, even as he gripped his cable harder.

There.

Oh slag, he was there. Optimus arched his back, releasing a feral groan, almost like a growl as overload crashed over him. His port convulsed and his cable throbbed as excess energon pulsed out of it. He was fairly sure a curse broke through his orgasmic writhing, but he didn't care, having finally found a release from all that tension and stress.

It was several minutes before his systems were cool enough to move around. He pulled out a rag that he grabbed just for this, cleaning himself up and the mess on the floor. Replacing his codpiece, Optimus made his way out of the sector and back into the main base area.

His processors sputtered at the amount of couples (and even threesomes!) making out in the hallways there were. After the first few reprimands, he gave up, all too aware of how much that helped with tension.

It just seemed peculiar that everyone had the same idea at the same time…

A day passed and Optimus still had no answer as to what had happened. He entered his office, relieved that the day had been uneventful; the Decepticons were laying low, it would seem. He shifted through his inbox, putting various official requests to the side and all other matters in their own pile. He stopped at a form letter from Red Alert, arching an optic as he read over the words. Red Alert was apologizing for something it looked like.

_…you have my most sincerest apologies, sir, for the events that transpired yesterday. My poor decision and lack of investigation led to an outbreak of behavior unbecoming of the soldiers and officers. I accept full responsibility for this any discipline that you would have me…_

The letter went on like this, apology after apology. Problem was, Optimus wasn't too sure what Red Alert had even done. Was he the reason that there were so many mechs making use of the hallways rather than their own berths? He'd have to find out about that.

The next letter answered the question. He opened it up and found in sharp, bold letters "Thanks for the stress-reliever, boss." Attached to it was a data card. Perplexed, Optimus loaded the file and immediately felt his systems heat up as he watched himself overloading.

He quickly shut off the file and glanced through the rest of his personal files from the inbox. Nearly all of them were 'thank you' letters of some kind and with each one he found, he could feel his faceplates flushing. It was obvious now what Red Alert was apologizing for. Yet to go and speak to the mech about it…Optimus sat back in his chair. He wasn't sure this was something he wanted to discuss, considering, it would seem, that the whole slagging base just watched him masturbate.

The following week, the matter was lost to the back of his processors as the Decepticons led a particularly harsh fight and some Autobots were nearly lost. The stress levels were rising again but Optimus found he couldn't bring himself to find relief. The base returned to the normal tide and flow of outside battles and the battles within, something that Optimus knew happened when even the soldiers were dealing poorly with the tension from the week's events.

It took a visit from Prowl to get to the source of Optimus' edginess.

"Sir, we have a growing situation on the base," he said calmly.

"I've noticed, Prowl." Optimus sat back in his chair, eyeing the tactician. "I'm assuming you have an idea?"

Prowl shifted his weight and didn't meet Optimus' gaze. "Sir, I just would like to point out that since the…incident a little over a week ago, I haven't had to throw anyone in the brig until today, and even that was for something minor."

Optimus tapped a finger on the desk in thought. "What are you implying?"

Prowl stiffened up and barely sputtered out, "Nothing, sir. Excuse me."

He turned and left without another word, leaving Optimus to his thoughts. The Autobot leader was no fool, he knew what Prowl was implying. That everyone who so thoroughly enjoyed that unintentional show, were also able to ease off that tension. It was clear that stress-relieved 'bots meant an easier base to deal with. Not to mention, the only injuries in the medical bay were from the fights from the Decepticons and not from within.

Optimus sighed and turned his chair, watching the still security camera. Having an easy-to-deal-with base would certainly make it easier to deal with Decepticons…

With a slight smirk, Optimus powered on the base-wide communication video-audio feed, normally used for important announcements. This was important, though – it was the least he could do for his men, wasn't it?

"Attention, Autobots, there a few things that I feel need to be said," he began, his voice deep and official. "First: Red Alert, no apologies needed. Second: I have decided to volunteer an hour of my time every week to the mental health of all my soldiers." Then, while the feed was still running, he ran a hand down his chest, all too aware that his entire body would be visible. "Commencing, now," he added before groaning and pressing his head back against the chair.

_For the good of the Autobots,_ he told himself – not that he needed that much convincing, almost feeling all those optics on him.


	2. Enter the Players

**Author's Note:** Second part with the idea for the third coming together. Just have to work it in between homework and papers and...yeah. Re-Uploaded Chap 2 due to formatting issues

Title: Tension Release  
Summary: When pleasure becomes a duty, Ratchet has to step in and confront Optimus.  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did.

* * *

**_Tension Release: Enter the Players_**

Optimus let out a low groan and his hips bucked upwards against his hand, his cable jutting out from his body, shining from the transfluid that had already leaked out. He tightened his grip and began pumping harder, working to wards that much needed edge. His other hand gripped the arm of his office chair as his cries grew louder and harsher. Dimmed optics flitted over towards the camera on the wall and the Prime felt all those optics on him – heated looks that joined in with his own lust.

He gave another cry and arched out from his chair. His hand moved faster and his gasps came quicker as the edge grew closer.

"Primus…so close," he groaned and bucked again before he went tense, his mouth gaping open in a soundless cry. His cable throbbed and spilled transfluid out across his hand and thighs. A moment later, a ragged cry was torn from his lips and his body began jerking again as it rode out the waves of overload. For a good, long while, only his gasping breaths and fading groans were heard as he sagged back in his chair. Knowing optics glanced at the camera once more and he gave a lazy smile before switching off the feed.

Another week, another grand service to his soldiers.

Yet as the feed died, Optimus wondered just how long he could keep going himself. It had been a hard week and he'd almost forgotten about what he'd promised his men. Reaching that climax had taken longer than it usually did and he only hoped no one noticed.

Ratchet knelt on the floor as he pumped his cable hard and fast, the image of Optimus' face as he came playing over and over in the medic's mind. His other hand pressed the vibrator deeper into his port, drawing another groan from him. The medic licked his lips and forced himself closer to overload, groaning long and deep as he finally reached it. Transfluid covered the floor and lubricant covered his hand thighs from his port. Tugging the vibrator free from his sensitive walls, Ratchet leaned back against the wall and sighed.

That had taken far longer than usual and it was time he approached Optimus about the situation. The Prime couldn't fully expect himself alone to be doing this every week. Sure, all mechs and femmes enjoyed some personal down time, but to heap upon it such a responsibility?

It was decided, then. As he made for the wash racks, Ratchet resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't let his leader go about this responsibility alone. Granted, he would have to convince his bond mate who was currently out on patrol that this was for the good of their faction. He doubted Ironhide would give much argument considering the kinky fantasies the weapons specialist often admitted to having.

The week passed slowly and Ratchet spent most of his time dealing with an overly eager bond mate. "How are you going to do it? Order a fully body exam, or even claim some kind of emergency…" Ironhide trailed off and grinned at his lover. "You're going to tell me at least, right?"

Ratchet scoffed and batted away playful hands so he could keep filing through medical records. "You'll just have to trade patrol shifts and watch for yourself," he said firmly.

The medic finally had to quiet the whining mech by rather unorthodox means but Ironhide didn't complain. Much.

A day later found Ironhide stretched across his and Ratchet's berth, downing a cube of energon as he prepped himself for Prime's 'Morale Booster'. He made himself comfy and made a direct connection to the security feed, finding the connection more satisfying than simply watching a distant screen. He licked his lips as the screen lit up but he quickly noticed an almost tired look in Prime's optics.

The skirmish that morning had been rough and Ironhide suddenly realized just what Ratchet had been saying. _When you going in?_ he asked his bondmade. _He's in a bad way…_

_At his door now,_ Ratchet answered. _Had to argue Prowl off and told him he could have next week. Slagger had the same idea I did._

And if that didn't send a shiver through Ironhide's frame. _Well…get in there already. He's really struggling right now!_

Optimus was indeed struggling, a quick glance down at his half-hard cable proved that much. He looked away and stared off to the far corner, pushing away images of the earlier battle, needing to get through this for his men. But try as he might, barely any pleasure answered his touches and slowly his hand went still and he sighed. He was about to cut the feed when the door opened.

He jumped when the door slid open. Gaping, he could only watch for a long, surprised moment as his CMO moved around the desk and gave the Prime a hard look.

"Ratchet, what are you…" Optimus trailed off as the medic leaned forward, bracing both hands on the arm rests of the chair.

Blue optics darkened and Ratchet brushed his lips over Prime's exposed ones. "I'm here to assist my Prime in any way possible," he purred before shifting and nipping at wires in the mech's neck.

Optimus tilted his head back, a quiet moan escaping him. He hadn't been expecting this but as skilled hands began plucking at wires and sensitive plating, he found he didn't mind at all. It took him a moment to realize that Ratchet was now kneeling between his legs and-

"OhsweetPrimusfraggit!" The stream of words came pouring from his mouth as a hot mouth encompassed his now very rigid cable. His hands clamped around the arm rests as he fought the urge to just slam into that mouth over and over.

Across the base, soldiers whimpered along with the video feed as they watched their leader buck and groan as Ratchet's head bobbed within his lap. For Ironhide, it was doubly effective, as he felt Ratchet leave his side of the bond wide open and memories of that same mouth on his own cable filled his mind.

Ratchet worked Optimus along until he knew his leader was close. He shifted a hand from Prime's thigh and brushed fingers over the closed port. He forced it open and plunged two fingers deep into the wet heat. A hand slammed over his helm and he gave a victorious groan as Prime lost control and began thrusting into his mouth. Having dealt with Ironhide all these orns, Ratchet was ready and continued to pump his fingers in that tight port.

Optimus came with a chocked off sob, body jerking as Ratchet swallowed away the transfluid and worked the sensitive interface a little longer. Prime whimpered and finally nudged Ratchet away, panting as he finally cut the feed.

Ratchet glanced over at the camera. "Done so soon?" he purred and Prime just groaned as he found himself with a lap full of horny medic.

The camera never came back on, but that didn't bother Ironhide as he reached for Ratchet's vibrator and enjoyed his own private show through their bond.

And of course Red Alert had all the monitors to watch, including Prime's office. The security bot whimpered and locked the door as his systems heated up yet again.


	3. Blue Tones for Relaxing

**Author's Note:** And here is Part 3! I had to take a few breaks while writing this sucker...damn, I wanna be Bluestreak in this so bad it hurts. And poor Prowl, still neglected...

Title: Tension Release  
Summary: Bluestreak wants to help out, too, he just didn't expect it to be like this!  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did.

* * *

**_Tension Release: Blue Tones for Relaxing  
_**

The events of that fateful day with Ratchet interceding on Prime's behalf set off a chain of events that Optimus hadn't expected. Specifically: other mechs volunteering to…aid him in his duties. He kindly but firmly declined all offers, insisting that he was well enough to continue on his own. A month passed this time before things began to turn south again.

Aware of the building need, Optimus was going over his schedule for the week, deciding what could be moved around and postponed. He wanted to try something a little different this time, maybe something more intimate from his own berth. It would be a good excuse to use the gift from Ratchet… Clearing the rest of the evening out, Optimus grabbed the box on his desk and made for his quarters, intent of thoroughly enjoying himself.

As he locked himself within the confines of his room, he powered on the security camera set up there. All the quarters had them, but they either had to be manually cut on or an override from Red Alert, Prowl or himself. With an extra spring in his step, he adjusted the camera so it was focused in on his berth. Putting the box down, he turned to face the camera and initialized the broadcast.

"Good evening, my dear Autobots," he purred. "It's been a while since I've felt my services have been needed but I think this evening will be a nice time for us all to…_unwind_. Wouldn't you agree? Now, tonight, I'd like to do something a little diff-"

He stopped and frowned as the camera suddenly shut off. The slag? Was the camera broken? It wasn't like he ever used it…at least not this one in particular. He tapped on the camera and began a basic diagnostic scan. It seemed like all was in working order but something was interrupting the signal. The frown deepened.

Someone was hacking the line and rerouting it. Prime made for his door, calling out to Prowl via commlink as he stepped into the hall way. Said mech jumped as Prime nearly plowed him over right in front of his quarters.

Optimus quirked an optic as Prowl sputtered for a moment.

"I was just…passing by!" he exclaimed and then regained his composure. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Were you standing outside my door?" Optimus asked, not letting Prowl off that easily.

"I wouldn't rule it out," Prowl quickly replied.

Cocking an optic, Optimus shrugged and patted Prowl on the shoulder. "I'll let you know ahead of time when I'm planning this," he purred.

"I'll hold you to that, sir," Prowl snarked in that dispassionate voice.

Optimus smirked behind his mask before returning to the original situation. "Someone is hacking into my camera feed," he said. "Need to track them down."

Prowl pulled out a datapad but before he was too far away in searching, the new feed started appearing on the video channel. The mechs shared a surprised look as Bluestreak came into view, vivid blue optics watching the camera lens nervously. Optimus was already moving towards the young bot's quarters as Bluestreak began to speak, touching himself hesitantly as he did so.

The work of Ratchet serving their leader had been an inspiration to Bluestreak and so, via some bribing, he figured out how to track camera use – specifically what ones Prime might use. His internal alarm went off the moment Prime came on and Bluestreak moved quickly to counter the signal with his own.

Of course he was nervous but he really wanted to do this for his leader, to give Prime a break. It was thanks to Optimus that Bluestreak even began exploring his own frame, discovering for himself what made him heat up and cry out with pleasure. He still hadn't been with another mech yet, though he surmised that after this, hopefully someone would perhaps approach him.

As the camera powered up, Bluestreak stepped into its view, his spark twitching anxiously.

"I think we've all seen that we can't have our leader shoulder the responsibility of doing this on his own," he began softly, gaining confidence at the sound of his own voice. "For those of you looking forward to seeing Prime, I'm sorry, but I wanted to give him a break. I certainly don't plan to disappoint."

He stepped back from the camera and moved onto his berth, kneeling so he was still facing his 'audience.' His hands slid across his chassis and down his sides, plucking at wires within reach. Bluestreak gasped and a flare of arousal struck through him as his optics re-focused on the camera.

"I can feel your optics on me," he said in a thick voice. "I can feel you fragging me with your optics. I can-"

The door flew open and Bluestreak yelped as Optimus stormed into his room.

"What is the meaning of this?" he growled.

Bluestreak, for once, said nothing but just stared at his leader in shock and, surprisingly, arousal. The object of the base's desire was standing in his own personal quarters. He didn't even notice Prowl coming in behind Optimus, giving Blue a hard look.

Optimus tilted his head and gave the young bot a curious look before turning back to Prowl. "Leave us," he ordered.

Prowl seemed ready to argue but something about Prime's look convinced him otherwise. Optimus returned his dark gaze to Bluestreak as Prowl left them, closing and locking the doors as he went.

Bluestreak glanced towards the camera and began to reach over to turn it off – Optimus was probably about to reprimand him hard for this and he didn't want all that to be seen. Optimus batted his hand away and kneeled on the berth, grasping Bluestreak and tugging him flush against him.

"You still want them to watch you, don't you?" he purred, one large hand squeezing along Blue's hip.

The smaller mech could only whimper and pressed harder against Optimus. Was his leader truly offering this? Optimus answered with a resounding _yes_ by pressing their mouths together, the face mask gone within an instant. Bluestreak groaned and began moving his own hands down the other's frame. The smaller hands made for reaching sensitive areas more easily and Bluestreak gasped along with Optimus as he found one particular spot.

"Such a quick learner," Optimus purred as he began to give attention to Bluestreak's door wings. When the smaller mech cried out and arched against him, Optimus paused and pressed his mouth alongside Bluestreak's helm. "So sensitive…have you ever actually been with another before?" he asked quietly so the camera wouldn't pick it up.

Blue shook his helm, whispering back a "No" while shuddering beneath Optimus' wicked touch. Optimus groaned softly and nipped at Blue's neck.

"Do you want me to be your first?" he purred. "Do you want me to take you in front all those optics?"

This time Bluestreak groaned loudly and clutched at Optimus' frame. "Primus, yes!" he gasped, unable to believe this was really happening.

The Autobot leader chuckled and pressed Bluestreak down against the berth, easily covering the smaller frame with his own. When next he spoke, his voice was loud again, letting the entire base hear his hungry words.

"I'm gonna frag you senseless, Blue," he growled and then began to tease the mech mercilessly with both hands and mouth. He shifted just enough so his glossa could drag across seams in Blue's chest, nipping at armor edges and wires within reach. Small hands suddenly clutched at Prime's helm as Bluestreak made a long keening sound, his chest pressing up against him.

As he continued teasing the young mech, Prime noted that, aside from those adorable sounds Blue made, he wasn't saying anything. The words had ceased to flow from Blue's vocalizer – had the building pleasure shorted something out? He gave a mental shrug and shifted lower still, making quick work of the flexing abdomen before Prime was nuzzling at the hot cod piece.

"Open for me," he purred, dark optics meeting Blue's.

The covering retracted, leaving the spike free to quickly pressurize and stretch outward. Further down, the leaking valve revealed itself as well, begging for attention. Bluestreak whimpered and clutched at the surface of the berth as Prime slowly dragged his glossa up the twitching cable, lips closing over the tip for a brief moment. As he pulled back, Blue jerked his hips upward, whimpering at the loss.

"Patience, little one," Optimus purred as he slid a finger across the hot, wet opening of the valve. Without warning, he pushed it inward and was rewarded with another sweet cry from Bluestreak. He pulled back his finger and pressed his mouth hard up against the valve, glossa pushing deep, allowing him to taste everything that was Bluestreak.

The little mech cried out again and lifted his legs slightly while stretching his thighs further apart at the same time. Blue was quickly realizing that touching one's self was nothing compared to having someone do it for you. As that glossa flexed inside him, teasing sensor nodes, he gasped and groan again. His arousal spiked as he managed to glance down and catch sight of Prime's helm moving and bobbing between his thighs. He bit down on his lip, forcing himself back away from the edge so rapidly approaching.

"Prime…oh gods," he finally gasped, the words bursting forth. "Feels so good!"

The elder pulled back and licked his lips, optics almost black with arousal. "Optimus," he purred. "No titles needed when my face is buried in your port."

Blue groaned and reached a hand down to grasp at one of the finials on Optimus' helm. "Don't stop!" he gasped, his body aching for release.

"Stop? Why…we've only just begun," Optimus teased before taking the hard cable into his mouth this time.

Left speechless again, Bluestreak returned to incoherent, thick-voice sounds, static framing it all now - even more so when that finger pushed into his valve again. Bucking hard, Bluestreak arched up towards that source of pleasure, a wild cry emitting past his lips. At the steady pace Optimus was using, the small bot found himself trapped on a plateau of pleasure, unable to reach release but not really wanting to, yet, either. Tremors raced through him each time Optimus would drag both lips and glossa up his length, hollowing cheeks adding suction.

After holding him there for a little while longer, Optimus pressed a second finger into that leaking valve and this time he began to make hard thrusting motions, pumping in and out of that tight heat. That wicked mouth was moving faster, too, and Bluestreak was clawing at the berth again, panting, gasping, bracing for the edge that was quickly approaching.

"Optimus!" he cried out and arched upwards, off the berth, _hard_, his overload bursting through him with flares of sparks. His port clamped down on those fingers and his cable pulsed, releasing transfluid into his lover's sweet mouth.

The larger mech groaned as hot fluid shot across his glossa and he swallowed eagerly, loving how Bluestreak lost all control beneath him. He was very much going to want to do this again some time in the future. But right now, he had his own need that begged for attention. He leaned back and caressed his lover's hips and thighs, watching him slowly come off that high. It was a beautiful sight, that lithe frame shuddering and twitching, little whimpers bursting forth.

Bluestreak gasped as strong hands took a hold of him again and began moving him. His optics focused on Optimus before the elder forced him onto his knees. He felt a heavy weight against his back as a hot mouth purred against his audial.

"My turn," Optimus purred before leaning back on his knees and spreading his thighs to balance his weight. He pulled Bluestreak back into his lap so they were both facing the camera. He could imagine the image his men were seeing – Bluestreak still appearing quiet wanton, legs stretched out on either side of Optimus' thighs and the Prime's cable hanging heavy just beneath that dripping port.

He reached a hand down to toy with Bluestreak's port before moving further and grasping his own spike, evoking a moan from his vocalizer. It was going to feel fragging nice to stretch that tight port. He rubbed the head of his cable against the port opening and began pushing inward while his free arm wrapped around Blue's waist. Small hands grabbed at his arm and his engine revved in response, his spike pushing into that hot, tight valve.

Bluestreak clutched at that arm while his intakes hitched, trying to remain calm and relaxed. But having something that _big _pushing into him was making that very difficult. It stung but not enough that he wanted Optimus to stop – far from it, really. Never had he been filled like this and as the head of cable pushed past the entrance, his walls tightened and then expanded to allow further entry.

Dimmed optics focused briefly on the camera and he was reminded of all the bots watching them – watching _him_ – as Optimus spread him wide open. The frame behind and beneath him shook with control and Blue turned his head so he could nip at Optimus' neck and jaw.

"I won't break," he whispered suddenly, his body starting to ache once more for release. The hold around his waist tightened and Optimus groaned, jerking his hips, pushing deeper into that warmth.

Harsh grunts and moans filled the room as Optimus began thrusting up into Bluestreak, each movement forcing more lubricant to slide down their thighs. Building up the pace, Prime's motions intensified, making his lover bounce in time with the thrusts.

"Oh, Primus!" Bluestreak gasped when one hard thrust pushed that cable completely inside him. "_Fraaaag,_" he moaned, breathing hard as he felt his body adjust to relieve that hard pressure.

Behind him, Optimus grunted, feeling the walls flex and loosen just enough so he could start thrusting again. He held back nothing now, his body eager for that release. He nipped at his lover's neck cables as one hand moved to start pumping Blue's harden cable.

"Feels good being filled up like this, doesn't it," he hissed, the entire berth creaking in protest to his movements. "I'm gonna fill you up more when I overload…"

Blue gasped again and dug his fingers into any part of Optimus he could grasp. Almost there…Primus, he was fragging close! He bucked when Optimus slid his thumb over the tip of his cable and then his body went tense.

A moment later, he was crying out, grounding his body down against Optimus', rolling his hips as his overload crashed through him once again. His own cable twitched and pulsed, covering his chest and Optimus' hand. He kept gyrating against his lover, prolonging the lust-filled sensations for as long as possible. He was quickly rewarded as the frame beneath him began to convulse, jerking up hard against him as Optimus let out a roar of release.

Powerful hands dented Bluestreak's hips as Optimus reached overload, his cable reacting easily to the uncontrollable flexing of those tight walls. His transfluid shot in hard streams into his lover, filling Bluestreak just as Prime had promised, but the valve couldn't hold it all and much of it slid down past his cable and onto the berth. Optimus gave a final thrust and released a long, very much satisfied, moan, small shudders echoing through his frame.

His hands moved gently over his lover's frame and Bluestreak nuzzled him in return, content to just rest there, impaled on that wonderful spike. They remained like this for a little while, their intimate actions so intense that neither for willing to break it just yet. Bluestreak finally brought his hand up to Optimus' helm, turning him just enough to capture a soft kiss.

"Thank you," he whispered and Prime laugh softly.

"I should thank you," he purred. "Or, shall I say, your fellow Autobots should thank you…"

Bluestreak blushed and glanced back towards the camera but Optimus nipped at his helm.

"I doubt they're paying any attention to us now," he whispered.

Looking back at those warm optics, Blue didn't say anything for a moment as a smirk grew across his face plates. "Well, maybe we should do something about that," he said in that innocent down that sent a flare of arousal through Optimus.

He laughed and gave his agreement by pressing Blue down against the berth, his body heating up for more. Well, he had intended for a long evening, hadn't he? No reason to do it alone when he had a willing mech just begging for more.

* * *

_**More A/N:** Was that intense or what?! Please Review if you liked it! Also, I'm open to suggestions and ideas_ so there's some incentive for commenting.


	4. And then Darkness Falls

**Author's Note:** Part 4 is here! Sorry for the long delay. Entering into the time of semester in which there are far too many papers and projects to do.

On a side note, I know at times these guys are out of character to a point. But please remember, too, that I'm writing smut for crying out loud. How is any of that IC? But I try to remain true as much as possible.

Title: Tension Release  
Summary: Prowl is tired of waiting. And Jazz isn't unaffected either, by all this.  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did.

* * *

**_Tension Release: And then Darkness Falls  
_**

"…so from what we can tell, the Decepticons are building up towards something, but whatever that is, is anyone's guess," Jazz concluded, leaning back in the chair before Prime's desk.

Optimus sighed and looked over the notes again. Things had been far too quiet lately, giving the Autobots a needed break, but also making them edgy and short-tempered. Of course, it had been over an Earth month since his little…interlude with Bluestreak, so certainly some of the tension within the base was simply the 'bots hoping for a show soon.

Prime tried not to let that go to his head too much.

"Sir, if I could ask something…personal," Jazz commented, breaking into Optimus' thoughts.

The leader braced himself, fully expecting a proposition from the spy but the question surprised him.

"In the last broadcast…you seemed really harsh with Blue there at first, ya know? Didn't seem quite yourself."

It took him a moment to gather an actual response. "Well…a part of it was for show," he said a little sheepishly, not ever really having discussed any of this with anyone. "But I also would prefer mechs not hacking my feeds when all they have to do is…ask."

And there was Jazz, leering at him now. Right, well, Optimus had walked right into that, hadn't he?

The door chimed and opened but before Optimus could see who it was, the lights in the room failed and all went black. He sighed and went to com the bridge but a strong hand gripped his wrist.

"What? Who-" he gasped and then _two_ pairs of hands were grabbing at him, forcing him up and across his desk. "Jazz, what the slag…whoever you are, let go of me!"

The hands pushed his down over his desk so he was facing upward and then, _Primus_, chains were being bound around his wrists and ankles. The angle was awkward and not conducive to actually breaking the chains. The way the desk shuddered and creaked, he realized the chains were being tied to the legs of the desk. He growled and tried using his internal communications line.

_Prowl! Report to my office and bring security. We've been breached and I've been compromised!_

Hot intakes blasted across Prime's helm.

"You have no idea just how compromised you are, _Optimus_," Prowl purred huskily.

"P-Prowl?" Optimus stammered, his own intakes sputtering in surprise. "What are you doing? Release me at once! Jazz? You're a part of this too, aren't you?!"

A quiet chuckle from the doorway. "Prowl said if I helped him, I could have ya next," he purred. "Have fun Prowler, and leave enough for me to play with."

Optimus heard the mech leave the room and then cried out in surprise as the lights came back on. As his optics adjusted, he became very aware of several things. First, the door was now shut and locked. Second, the camera on the wall was on and focused on him. And, third, there was a very hot, dark mech leaning over him and trailing his hands gingerly down his frame.

"I got tired of waiting for you, Optimus," Prowl whispered. "Do you know how hot and wanting you left me that day with Bluestreak. Just watching you take him…Primus, I wanted it to be me, so badly…So I finally realized I had to take things into my own hands."

Optimus whimpered and pulled on his bonds. "Then let me go and will give you what you want," he gasped.

"Oh, no, I can't do that," Prowl quipped, his hands trailing down Optimus' chest. "Then you could get away again and somebody else would claim you. No…it's my turn now, my Prime."

A reply was cut off as wicked fingers slipped over his cable covering. He gasped and jerked his hips, moaning in frustration from his limited movements. He was well aware of the distant camera and that every one was watching Prowl take advantage of him – another shiver raced through him and he groaned with thick arousal.

Prowl traced his fingers further down, over Prime's closed port. "Open it," he ordered and Optimus found no reason not to obey, hissing as cool air rushed across his hot core.

Those deft fingers teased over the opening before three pushed forward into the port, stretching Optimus and filling him. He gasped and the desk strained against as he tried arching into the touch.

"So responsive," Prowl whispered as he teased the inner nodes. "Good, as I have something fun planned for you."

He proceeded to open one of the drawers of the desk and Optimus' optics widened as his SiC pulled out his gift from Ratchet – a sleek and thick dildo, designed to both vibrate and produce low level energy bursts, as well as even gyrate some what.

"How did you know-" he stammered before Prowl cut him off.

"Ever since you started this…service, of yours, Wheeljack's been busy creating several more," he replied. "There's quite the waiting list and Ratchet noted that he's glad he ordered yours early on…"

Optimus bit down on his lip and watched as Prowl nuzzled the toy, optics locked on his leader's face. "Please…Prowl, I want…"

"Tell me, Optimus. Let me serve you…" Lithe fingers pushed deeper, drawling out another gasp.

"Need more," he groaned a moment later, bucking slightly.

Prowl shifted, withdrawing his fingers, and quickly replaced them with the dildo. Optimus couldn't hide his relieved sigh as the toy sank home, filling him, nudging and rubbing against the deeper nodes. Prowl pumped the dildo in and out a few times, enjoying the sweet sounds coming from the Prime's throat. Such whimpers and mewls were so exquisite!

He pushed the toy inward once more, deep, the base flush with the surrounding pliable edges of the port. "Close your port," he said in a firm tone.

"Wha-what?" Optimus stammered.

"I spoke quite clearly, Optimus," Prowl growled. "Close your port."

Whimpering, Optimus obliged the other mech, intakes hitching as the panel forced the toy to stay deep inside him.

"Now I know this particular…tool has a frequency accessible only to you, my Prime," Prowl went on to say. "Turn it on but only to its lowest setting."

Optimus wanted to argue but was beginning to finally realize just how out of control he was now. Dimming his optics, he braced himself and cut the vibrations on, twitching as sensitive nodes flared with life at the sudden vibrations. It didn't help any that his SiC was suddenly dragging a very warm and wet glossa up his now released and heavy cable.

Before he could even start begging for more, though, Prowl was climbing on top of him and laying down over him. Face-to-face, Optimus could feel the heat rolling off his current lover and he suddenly realized that somewhere along the line, his facemask had retracted. Warm lips brushed over his own, gentle at first before quickly claiming his mouth. Optimus moaned into Prowl's mouth as he felt a glossa push into his own. The Prime clenched large fists as the desire to touch and hold washed over him.

Prowl must have sensed the added tension as he slowly pulled back, lips parted and glistening. "Relax, my Prime, and enjoy what I have to offer," he cooed as he reached between them and teased the thick cable.

The dark mech leaned further back, grasping the cable hard as he guided it towards his own wanting port. Optimus savored the image for a brief moment: his officer balancing on soles of his feet, door wings flared out in blatant arousal and optics darker than the night. And the Prowl sank down slowly, whimpering as the larger cable stretched him more than he was used to.

"Don't you dare overload, my Prime," he warned in a strained voice and Optimus wondered if he should issue the same warning.

Prowl paused as Optimus his cable brush the back of his port, not yet fully sheathed – a distinct reminder of his larger size. He'd been surprised that Bluestreak had handled as much as he had, but this time, with Prowl, he wouldn't be as lucky. Hands pressed down against his chest as Prowl inhaled sharply and Optimus jerked hard against the desk as the tight walls shifted and Prowl sank down completely.

"Prowl! The frag…what?" he groaned and Prowl just smirked.

"Trade secret, Prime," he replied, rolling his hips but otherwise not moving, save for the clenching of inner wires and panels.

"Prowl," Optimus whimpered. "_Move_."

The SiC didn't argue against that as he slowly rose up and dropped down _hard_. Optimus grunted as he felt tight inner walls drag along his length. That rhetoric continued – a slow drag upwards and then a hard drop down, never enough to send either of them over the edge, but enough to keep them teetering. After a while, Prowl shortened his movements, eventually moving with a more hip-rolling motion than actual dropping. His optics met Optimus' for a moment and the Prime shivered as he recognized the hungry lust.

"Up the vibrations to a medium level and bring the energy bursts online as well," he ordered, rocking his hips against Prime's.

Optimus whimpered as he answered the command, the burning pleasure within his port flaring like a star. "Prowl!" he gasped out once and then again when port walls clenched about his own cable.

"I can feel the bursts," Prowl said in a strained voice, his body rigid with tension.

That confession sent another hard wave of arousal through Optimus and the desk groaned in protest as he pulled on the chains.

"I can't hold on," he suddenly gasped.

"Then don't," Prowl replied and he began moving hard and fast, pushing Optimus quickly to a hard overload.

The autobot leader roared out his release, his cable spilling out transfluid into the tight port. Prowl echoed the cry, his walls clenching at the pulsing cable, prolonging the overload for them both.

Both gave a startled cry when the desk gave way, unable to support their harsh movements. Limbs suddenly free, Optimus rolled them onto the floor, holding Prowl down with a hungry gaze. No warning could prepare the SiC for what his leader did next. Optimus upped the level of the energy burst to max and began slamming his hips against Prowl's, thrusting his cable deep and hard.

It was all Prowl could do to hang on while he fragged into the floor – and enjoying every moment.

"Optimus! Oh…fraggit, harder!" he yelled, not caring that the camera was still running. Especially when Optimus leaned down and bit at a line in his neck.

This sent him into another hard overload and his legs came up, ankles hooking over Prime's back, holding him close as he bucked hard against the larger mech. Optimus cried out again, emptying himself into the officer, bucking hard as the pleasure slammed through him.

When Prowl came to, he was pleasantly greeted by a comforting weight covering him and soft kissed trailing up his neck.

"Welcome back," his Prime purred and Prowl gave a quiet laugh.

"You should me, I guess," he whispered and then whimpered as Prime slowly pulled out of him.

"You and the rest of the Autobots," that sultry voice chuckled.

Prowl gazed lazily at Optimus as he leaned back, resting on his knees, fishing out the quiet dildo.

"You should see yourself," Prowl said, taking in the sight of the thoroughly fragged mech.

Optimus laughed. "You should, too," he replied.

"You both look quite the sight," Jazz added, leaning over the remains of the desk.

Optimus raised an optic at the saboteur before snatching Jazz and pull him onto the floor with them.

"You ready to take me on?" the Prime purred in a dark voice.

"Ah! Wait, are ya serious? You just went two-ack!" Jazz arced as fingers traced somewhere they didn't belong, or maybe they did. "Sir, the cam's still runnin'!"

"Good."

Prowl smirked and leaned back against the wall, very much satisfied to have been fragged by their Prime. He watched Optimus proceeded to make Jazz nothing more but moaning and gasping frame, his optics especially intent at said leader's aft moving so tantalizingly around. Prowl's neglected cable gave a twitch and he smirked as he moved quietly back over to the two mechs. His hands grasped Prime's hips with no warning and he slammed his cable forward, burying it deep into that wet heat.

Optimus gasped but hardly lost momentum as he was slowly sinking into Jazz in that moment. Jazz cried out from the added force, but certainly not in complaint.

"Where the frag do ya get the energy?" Jazz groaned, hands tight on Optimus' shoulders.

"Trade secret," Optimus replied before driving the three of them into a hard and very satisfying overload.


	5. Night Doesn't Last Forever

**Author's Note:** You didn't think I'd given up, had you? Well, almost, and then the computer died and then school started and it's been a roller coaster. Hopefully this will be worth the wait!

Also, as much as this is based on G1, I'm a Bayverse fan through and through, so in my mind, I most of these guys in those forms, rather than G1. My apologies.

Title: Tension Release  
Summary: Optimus needs some loving and Starscream is a 'guest' to the Autobots.  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did.

* * *

**_Tension Release: Night Doesn't Last Forever_**

Optimus wouldn't admit to necessarily curling up on his side on his berth, but that's what he did. The early-morning battle had taken a heavy toil on all of them. It had only been by the grace of Primus that they hadn't lost anyone, though they came damn close to it.

Ironhide, his brother-in-arms, had taken a direct hit to the chest, damaging his spark chamber. Ratchet had been a mess, unable to be of any real use when it came to fixing the wound, leaving it to First Aid and any others with some medical knowledge.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Optimus gave a weary sigh. When would this war ever be over? When they were all dead? Why the frag were they even fighting in the first place?

He pulled his body up a little tighter. Primus, it wouldn't due to nurse such doubts.

At some point he fell into a fitful recharge with images of long-gone comrades plaguing his dreams. Phantom hands grabbed at him, holding him down and constraining him.

"Hush, Prime, it's alright, we're all okay," someone said.

"No…so many dead, so many lost," Optimus replied.

"Yes, but not today. We're okay, Prime," a different voice replied.

Optimus woke and was greeted by twin pairs of optics.

"Sunstreaker…Sideswipe, what are you doing?" he asked softly.

"Taking care of our leader who takes care of us," Sunstreaker whispered.

Optimus moved to sit up. "I'm alright, you two. Just…tired."

Both brothers pushed Optimus back down onto his back. They didn't stop touching him then, either. He lifted his head, optics focusing on the far wall – he just didn't want to do this now, to be seen at such a low point.

"It's not on, it's just us right now," Sideswipe whispered, nuzzling Optimus' neck.

The Prime laid back again, slowly giving himself over to their attention. Hands dragged across his frame, allowing fingers to dip in and work out kinks in his wires.

"You don't have to do this," he argued weakly.

The twins ignored his protest and continued moving against him. Fingers plucked at his chest and Optimus finally relaxed.

"You are our leader," Sunny whispered, mouthing Optimus' jaw. "And you are our friend. At the end of the day, there is no one else I'd give my life for."

"You do so much for us, Optimus," Sides joined in saying. "Let us do this small thing for you."

"I almost got Ironhide killed today," Optimus said, hating how defeated he sounded.

"No you didn't," Sunny replied in a firm voice, hands tightening on the Prime's chest. "He was doing his job. And you know he'd do it again without a second thought. All of us would."

"The war should never have lasted this long," Optimus continued.

"Not your fault so just stop blaming yourself," Sides snapped even as he moved to suck on Optimus' finials.

Any further protests were cut off as Sunstreaker captured Optimus' lips, the face mask gone from his earlier recharge. Optimus remained still for a moment before wrapping an arm around the twin and tugging him closer. Encouraged by his leader's response, Sideswipe slid a hand further down the Prime's chest, down across his abdomen.

Intakes hitched and Optimus deepened the kiss with Sunstreaker. All three frames rose in temperature, legs intertwined as well as other limbs. At one point, Optimus turned his head and caught Sides' lips in a passionate kiss. The kiss was broken the moment his covering slid back one of them grasped his hardening length.

"Primus," he hissed but the twins didn't relent.

Cooling fans kicked on and Optimus groaned when a hot mouth descended upon his length. He wasn't sure which one was doing what now as he shuttered his optics and gave himself over to the heat building around them. He groaned as a glossa rolled over the head of his cable, sliding over the slit at the very tip. He couldn't help but spread his legs in open invitation and he felt the twin nestle snugly against his inner thighs.

"Open your optics," Sunstreaker purred, his hands still easily teasing armor plating and hidden wires. "You don't need to be missing the show my brother is giving you…"

Optimus did so and groaned loudly as he watched Sideswipe bob his head slowly, bright optics focused on him. With one hand fisting the base of Optimus' cable, Sideswipe used his mouth to pleasure the rest of the length, filling the room with wet suckling sounds. The large red and blue mech slid a hand down Sides' helm, encouraging him further still.

Sunstreaker snuck a hand past Sideswipe and began fingering Optimus' wet, hot port, forcing a gasp from the refined leader. The golden twin just smirked and immediately began pumping three fingers within his leader, leaving Optimus a gasping, moaning, writhing mess.

The suction intensified as well and the Prime bucked his hips roughly before hands held him down.

"Easy…let us do the work for you," Sunstreaker purred as he flexed his fingers.

Optimus missed the nod the golden twin gave Sideswipe, but he did notice when Sides pulled back and began crawling up his frame. Before he could question Sideswipe, his lips were captured in a hungry kiss, muffling a lust-filled cry. For not only was the twin an excellent kisser, but he had his port wide open and was rubbing it against Optimus' cable. And there were still fingers pumping into his own sodden opening.

When Sideswipe pulled back, all Optimus could manage was a shaking "Please" as he rolled his hips upward. He felt a hand grasp his length and begin guiding it into that hot and tight port and all he could do was groan wantonly, grateful to be losing himself in such bliss. Optics went dark as his sensitive length sheathed itself within the twin and the Prime slid his hands across the nimbler frame.

"He's gorgeous, isn't he?" Sunstreaker asked and Optimus spared him a glance.

"Aren't you…?" Optimus trailed off and Sunstreaker just smirked.

"Joining in? Oh, of course I am, my Prime."

Sides disapproved of being ignored and rolled his hips while squeezing inner walls, succeeding in drawing Optimus' attention back to him. Slowly he began to ride that hard cable, groaning himself as the pleasure built. Without warning, Sunstreaker pressed up behind him and Optimus gasped, his entire frame jerking. It didn't take a genius to know that Sunstreaker had his cable hilt-deep inside their leader.

Optimus' intakes hitched as that cable pressed easily inside of him, stretching and filling him. Caught against his berth and their moving bodies, Optimus found himself suddenly comforted by their presence – not just what they were doing physically, but by offering themselves so freely to him. There were no catches here, no alternate plans and as the great Autobot leader dug his fingers into their frames and cried out his release, a strange peace descended upon him.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe echoed his cries with ports clenching and cables spilling out hot fluid and emotions baring all to one another. Optimus pulled them both close, caressing them and he pressed soft kisses all over their heated frames.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely, unable to say anything else.

"We aren't done yet," Sideswipe whispered this time, nimble fingers finding openings within Optimus' armor.

"We've just begun," Sunstreaker added.

Optimus could only groan as the twins began their assault anew.

* * *

"The fact that he's still in one piece is the amazing part," Prowl mused out loud as he gazed at the off-lined Decepticon on the security monitors.

Ironhide just "humphed" in reply and rubbed at his chest absently. He was back on light duty for now, helping Prowl handle security duties.

"Want me to go fix that?" he asked a moment later.

"That's alright," Prowl replied dryly. "Just make sure that none of the guards decide to deal with him themselves. Prime will probably want to try talking with him later."

There was a long pause and then Ironhide had to ask it. "They have a monitor set up in there?"

"Of course they do," Prowl quickly relied, as if he anticipated the question.

"Just checking."

* * *

Starscream would never admit his mistake, his stupidity, really, in allowing himself to be caught by the Autobots. Yet here he sat, sulking in the confines of the cell. He shifted to a glower every time his guard glanced in his direction, but otherwise continued sulking. This wasn't his first trip to the enemy holding chamber but this was the first time they'd decided to put some kind of viewing monitor on the wall.

Primus, had the Autobots finally given in to the idea of torture and were planning to allow Megatron to watch?

No, that couldn't be it. The Autobots had to know that Megatron wouldn't care. Or he would maybe even give them pointers and better ways to make the Seeker scream.

Starscream flicked off his optics, frustrated with the lack of anything at all happening. His processor was over-clocking itself as he wondered about his fate. He needed something else to do. He heard footsteps from down the hall but didn't respond for the moment.

"Hey Bluestreak, heard anything yet about today's special?" his guard asked the passing mech.

"Special? What are you going on about, Tracks?" the blue mech replied.

Starscream's guard sighed. "Prime. When is he planning to go live?"

"Oooh, well, the last I heard was this afternoon although Sunstreaker mentioned seeing Optimus making a straight shot for his office just a short while ago. I know Prowl and Ironhide are-"

"What are you two fraggers going on about?" Starscream finally snapped. "Is your glorious leader planning to gloat about capturing the Decepticon High Commander? Well, he should save his processing lines and prepare for the onslaught Megatron will bring to annihilate you all!"

Starscream strained on his chains as he rose to his feet, just enough to make his point but much to his frustration, both Autobots just stared at him with rather amused expressions.

Bluestreak glanced at Tracks before smirking at the Seeker. "Oh, trust me, our Prime isn't so…mundane."

The Seeker glowered at them both, his fingers itching to cause pain. He was…curious, though as to what the Prime was planning. Truth was, the Autobots had been fairing far better than usual lately, shattering what morale remained for the Decepticons. His capture today was proof of how far south things were going for them.

Another brilliant insult came to mind but just as Starscream powered up his vocals to share it, the screen hummed to life. The Decepticon stared as his captors moved to where they could both see the screen better while still remaining out of his reach. Starscream shifted his optics to the screen, not surprised to see Optimus Prime's image there.

"My fellow Autobots," the mech began. "I want to congratulate you all on a brilliant defense this morning of the human settlement and even more so for bringing back our guest. In hopes of perhaps reaching out to our long-time enemy, I have requested that he be included in my continuing efforts to maintain a mentally healthy environment."

Bluestreak snorted. "Is that what he's calling it now?"

"Hush," Tracks chided, his optics focused on the screen.

Starscream didn't miss that, either. With his guard's focus elsewhere, perhaps he could work his way out of these chains and get free. Optimus droned on in the background.

"It is also because of our guest's presence that today's…exercise will be solo."

The Seeker glanced up, eyeing the screen. There was something very strange about how Optimus was speaking.

"I still can't believe he included you in said…exercises," Tracks suddenly said, giving Bluestreak an envious look.

Bluestreak just laughed. "Primus, I couldn't believe it either. You know, I still ache in places that-"

"He's starting!" Tracks interrupted.

Starting what, the Seeker was only beginning to suspect, as the view on the screen zoomed out, revealing Optimus sitting in a large chair. The large mech appeared both regal and very much relaxed at the same time, slouching slightly in his seat and legs spread open. As Starscream wondered what these exercises actually entailed, he noted that the Prime kept shifting slightly in his seat and his legs kept twitching. What the frag was wrong with the slagger?

"Primus," Bluestreak whimpered. "He…"

"He already has it in him," Tracks finished in a thick voice.

Starscream glanced at them in confusion only to stare as the smaller mech, Bluestreak, was now pressing up against the side of his guard, Tracks. Understanding was slowly creeping into his processor as he looked back at the screen. Optimus had a distant look on his faceplates as he began to slowly drag a hand down his chest.

"Oh, _frag_ no," Starscream hissed, glaring at the two Autobots with renewed rage. "I am not about to sit through some twisted Autobot porn!"

Tracks just laughed as he moved Blue to stand in front of him, back to his chest so his hands could move freely over the slighter frame.

"If you watch the whole thing, Seeker, you'll probably realize that this is something far more deeper than just physical pleasure," his guard drawled.

"This is sick is what this is," Starscream retorted. "This is-"

A loud gasp emitted from the screen and the Seeker couldn't help but look. Optimus had his fingers in between the armor in his hips and the expression on his face was complete bliss. A moment later, he gave a soft, though thick, laugh, and his optics met the camera.

"I've said it a thousand times," he rasped, "but I have to thank you again, Ratchet, for this exquisite gift. And you, Prowl, I thank you for teaching me a few new…tricks."

The Prime rolled his hips slightly and this time Starscream didn't miss the glistening wetness coating Optimus' thighs and panel. The arousal that suddenly flared through the Seeker was dismissed as a natural response and ignored. For now. Red optics darkened as Starscream watched that hand shift again, this time cupping and squeezing that large bulge that was the leader's cod piece.

The many nights of crude jokes referencing the Autobot's interface suddenly rushed to the forefront of Starscream's processor and he realized that he was about to either confirm or deny all their remarks.

Optimus groaned quietly as he groped himself, rubbing and squeezing the covering. The distant hum of fans could be heard now, along with the slight creaking of a chair. His hand stilled and fingers tapped along the bulge. A moment later, the covering slid back and revealed the glorious mechhood of Optimus Prime.

Starscream stared, still ignoring the ache building within his own groin. A sound to his side pulled his attention away and the Seeker stared even more as the two Autobots were groping either other more profusely. Their optics remained on the screen but Tracks now had his hand down between Blue's thighs, two fingers knuckle-deep in a very wet port.

The Seeker quickly returned his attention to the screen, just in time to see Optimus steadily pumping his large spike. Starscream tried off-lining his optics but the image remained – the Autobot leader lost in the throes of passion; so open and…_mortal_. Red optics came on again and this time stayed on. Optimus was beginning to writhe in the chair now, vents audibly straining as systems heated up.

The sound of his own fans kicking on didn't bother Starscream as much as it should have. He was just too busy watching the Prime move a second hand down to join the first, sliding further to rub at the closed port. A sharp gasp tore the Seeker from the screen and he heard himself whimper as he saw Tracks jerk his hips forward and burying his spike into Bluestreak. A moment later, both were down on their knees, optics still glued to the screen as they fragged each other.

Starscream swallowed hard and returned his shaken gaze to Optimus, his intakes hitching as he saw the panel slide open. He watched as Optimus pushed fingers inward and then pulled _something_ out.

Oh…_Primus_. Was that a…?

It was.

Starscream collapsed to his knees, unable to support his weight as his body begged for attention. He couldn't give in, not even when the most powerful of mechs was fragging himself on a fake electric spike and jerking himself off and making the most delicious sounds. Optimus began snapping his wrist forward in a steady rhythm, pumping the spike in and out of the weeping port. Each thrust forced a deep grunt from the Autobot; a sound so deep that Starscream thought he could feel it in his frame.

The chair beneath Optimus groaned in protest as the leader hoisted a leg over the arm, spreading his legs open even wider and giving a better view of that glistening port. Starscream caught himself rubbing his own covering and he jerked his hand back. He would watch but he couldn't give himself over like some rutting Autobot!

Optimus' optics were nearly black now as the mech moaned softly, his fist moving slow and steady over his cable. Intakes were audibly hitching and shuddering as Optimus began moving his whole frame in motion with his hands. Just watching and hearing Optimus alone was certainly enough to affect Starscream, but just listening to the two mechs so close to him was making him almost wish for a 'let's-rape-the-prisoner' scenario. At least then he could pretend he wasn't enjoying it.

He shook his head and looked down, aware of his aching cable and how his hands were shaking as he fought to maintain control. He turned his optics upward once more and whimpered when he found Optimus had gone still, frame visibly shaking, giving away that the Prime was fighting off an overload. But what made Starscream whimper was that Optimus was staring right at the camera, giving the very shaking impression that he was staring right at the Seeker.

With the mask gone, Starscream could do nothing as he lost himself within that open, piercing expression. Even the two Autobots had gone still – it felt that time itself had gone still.

The moment passed Optimus began moving again, both hands increasing their pace and leaving their owner a crying, shaking mess. Next to the Seeker, Tracks and Bluestreak began moving again as well, both crying out and gasping as pleasure built high within them. A moment later, everything seemed to shatter as Optimus bucked hard and made such a feral sound that Starscream nearly overloaded himself. The two lovers sharing the room with him certainly did, their harsh cries mixing with Prime's.

Starscream only cried out in frustration as he forced himself away from the edge, barely keeping his hands off himself. He grasped his chains instead and strained against those, his hips jerking forward as his body demanded attention. Primus! Even his port was demanding to be touched! Damn these Autobot slaggers!

Time passed with only the sounds of fans going and gradually slowing heavy breathing. Starscream still stared at the now slouching Prime, all the tension drained from the leader's frame. The Seeker actually felt a tinge of jealousy, knowing that one could never be that relaxed among the Decepticons. Optimus gave a rumbling purr and smile lazily at the camera.

"Until next week, my dear Autobot brothers and sisters," he said and the screen went dark.

Next week? They did this every slagging week?

Starscream groaned and leaned all the way forward, pressing his heated helm against the cool floor. What the slag had happened here since the last time he'd been held prisoner?

Nearby, Tracks and Bluestreak were making some contented rumbles of their engines, leaving their prisoner wishing for the same. Not that he'd ever admit it.

Heavy footsteps disrupted all three of them and they looked to the room's entrance. For a moment, the Seeker feared that Prime was going to descend upon him and go for a more personal…exercise. Nothing that pleasant met his gaze at the doorway as the Autobot's Weapons Specialist, Ironhide, stomped into the room.

Both Tracks and Bluestreak were on their feet in an instant, both looking rather guilty. Ironhide only scoffed at them and settled his gaze on the Seeker.

"You two, go clean yourselves up," he growled. "I'll watch the pris- our guest."

Fear coursed through Starscream's frame – as well as the strangest touch of arousal. Maybe his little rape fantasy would happen now? Primus, he wasn't sure he'd mind at this point. Damn Prime.

His guards scrambled out of the room, leaving him alone with Ironhide. Another shudder raced through him as he felt the Autobot gazing at him. Starscream just glowered, unsure how else he could act, considering how hot his energon was running. Ironhide smirked and moved forward, circling the Seeker.

"Did you enjoy the show?" he purred, sliding a hand down Starscream's back.

The Seeker jerked away, gasping. "Get away from me!" he shrieked, even as his body ached for more.

Ironhide chuckled. "You sure are running hot, Seeker," he said, ignoring the protest.

Starscream glared at him. "Decided to drop your moral standing and rape a helpless prisoner?" he growled.

"Not rape if the prisoner wants it," Ironhide replied, dragging his hands across the broad wings.

"Who said I wanted this?"

"Who said you didn't?"

Starscream didn't mean to whimper, but he did, and it didn't help that Ironhide was pressing his fingers into the juncture of his wings and body. He was on the verge of breaking and begging to be fragged when another voice joined the fray.

"Figured I'd find you here," Ratchet scoffed as he leaned against the doorway.

Ironhide didn't move away from Starscream as he smirked at his bond mate.

"I knew you'd be here soon enough," he replied in a rumbling purr. He stepped around the still-kneeling Seeker and grabbed Ratchet, pulling the medic flush against and seizing a harsh kiss.

Starscream stared, slack-jawed, before uttering a growl of frustration.

"Are you two planning to torture me like the others?" he cried.

Ironhide peered back at the 'Con. "Was that your consent?"

Ratchet slapped Ironhide on the shoulder and pulled back slightly.

"You really planning to just…molest him? Take advantage of a prisoner?" he asked warily.

"Hey, don't give me that. Optimus is the reason the Seeker is all wound up now anyway," Ironhide growled. "It wouldn't be very…Autobot of me to let him just suffer, right?"

_Besides,_ he purred within their bond. _I know how much you've been wanting to be fragged by one…_

Ratchet's optics darkened and his gaze fell upon Starscream. It was obvious the kind of strain the 'Con was under now and it really wouldn't be right to leave him like that…

Starscream watched in growing anticipation as the medic keyed the high-security lock to the cell, sealing the lock from all but the highest-level officers. Ironhide stepped back and watched hungrily as his mate neared the Seeker, talented hands drifting over sensitive wings.

"These chains aren't necessary, are they?" the medic asked softly.

The Seeker whimpered but tried to relax as he shook his head hard. He had no idea what the two were up to at this point, but he had little doubt of their main objective. Starscream gave a sigh of relief as the weight of the chains fell away. He made no effort to move, though, knowing that even in this aroused state, Ironhide could take him down easily if needed.

"I've always wondered what it would feel like to have a Seeker between my legs," Ratchet whispered at the side of Starscream's helm.

He gasped and could no longer hold back, his covering sliding away and allowing his cable space to expand. He gasped and sobbed as a hand enclosed his length, squeezing and tugging gently.

"Mmm, you have quite the length," the medic purred. "Perhaps not as thick as my mate there but I suspect you'll have me crying out in no time."

Starscream couldn't reply, even when Ratchet moved to all fours in front of him, waving his aft in presentation to the Seeker. The clicks of a cover sliding back reached Starscream's audials and he whimpered as the glistening port was revealed to him. He glanced up at Ironhide, his hands shaking again as he longed to grasp that aft and own it. When he saw the lust-driven mech give a short nod, Starscream threw caution to the wind and drove his spike deep into the medic.

It was a miracle that he didn't overload in that instant, but he was damn near close to it. He spared little time for Ratchet to adjust as he began slamming into that tight, throbbing, wet heat, grunting every time his spike hit the back wall. Before he reached that sacred edge, though, a heavy mass pressed up behind him and he froze.

"Don't you dare overload before he does," Ironhide growled, even as he fingered Starscream's port. "You'll be in a world of pain if you do."

Starscream didn't doubt it, either. He stilled and curled over Ratchet's back, whimpering as Ironhide leaned down to drag a glossa up his exposed port. His wings quivered as he used all his self-control to resist overloading. Beneath the Seeker, Ratchet was gasping and begging for more, lust clouding his thoughts.

"Such a good little Seeker," Ironhide purred a moment later before pushing his glossa deeper, jerking a cry from Starscream. "What was that? Tell me what you want…"

"Just frag me already!" the Seeker cried out in a broken sob.

The Autobot chuckled and pulled back. Starscream feared that he would be left to suffer even more. Something large and hard breached his port, filling it nearly beyond what he could handle. The Seeker cried out as Ironhide sheathed himself fully into the tight port, grunting harshly himself. He stilled for the slightest moment and then slowly pulled back, inciting further sobs and cries for mercy from Starscream. He was going to overload, no matter how hard he tried to hold back.

But then Ironhide slammed forward and didn't stop, setting a harsh, frantic pace. In the back of his processor, Starscream noted that the mech moved with the same desperate need that he and Ratchet had. Any smugness he could feel over that was washed away in torrents of pleasure, though. Every harsh thrust forward forced the Seeker deeper into the medic, creating a cycle of pure, unwavering pleasure.

Starscream dug his fingers into Ratchet's shoulders, holding his body tight as control slipped from his gasp. But in that moment, Ratchet cried out harshly, his overload evident as tight walls constricted further around Starscream's cable. The Seeker echoed his own cry and clutched tightly to the mech beneath him as he rode out his own overload, transfluid bursting forth and filling the medic. His own port constricted as well, and Starscream could only whimper as Ironhide roared his release, hot fluid all but stretching Starscream further.

Ironhide gave a few more harsh jerks before pulling back. The force of it pulled Starscream back and he fell back flat against the floor. His wings flared in protest but he didn't care. His body was aching in ways he had forgotten it could ache.

"Primus," Ratchet groaned as he managed to slump over against Ironhide.

Ironhide grunted in return and Starscream only whimpered.

* * *

Optimus Prime stood at a regal parade rest as he watched the Seeker fly off. The offer had been made and now Starscream carried it off to his own leader, leaving the decision in Megatron's hands.

"Can't believe you just let him fly off like that," Ironhide grumbled.

Optimus glanced over at the officer with a raised optic. "Will you miss your new lover that much?"

Ironhide guffawed while Ratchet snickered in the background.

"After what you two did to him, he'll either avoid you like the plague or let himself be captured again," Optimus drawled.

"Well, until then, I have patients to deal with," Ratchet replied, distracting Ironhide from a sharp, and likely rude, reply. "Seems to be an energon tank glitch going around."

Optimus nodded and returned his optics to where Starscream had last been seen. With this chance for peace possibly at hand, Optimus could only hope and pray that no more friends would be lost.

* * *

_So what is Optimus' plan? *evil cackle* Let's just say that the Autobots aren't going to like it when they find out...well, at first..._


	6. Not the Dawn Expected

**Author's Note:** One more chapter after this, with a sort of follow-up on everyone. I thought about adding in more, but I just need to have this "finished" in my head and...honestly, I need to step away from all the smut that consumes my life. It's a pretty bad addiction, really, but my OCD mind needs me to finish this. So here it is, guys. Enjoy! (And no, it isn't beta-ed at all, so my apologies for the likely errors throughout)

Title: Tension Release  
Summary: Optimus' overall plan of helping everyone feel better ultimately backfires...  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did.

* * *

Prowl charged into the control room, energon still drying on his armor from the battle.

"Anything?" he asked to Bluestreak at the communications console.

"Nothing, sir. Should I continue hailing them?"

Prowl nodded and braced his weight against Teletran-1. The strike had been quick and well organized, the Decepticons leaving with their prize far too easily. A wave of nausea rolled through him and he had to fight to keep from purging right there. It was a wonder he fared as well as he had during the battle as he warred with his body to keep from being sick. Ratchet had to figure out what this virus was, hitting more and more of their numbers.

Ironhide entered the room a few moments later, his expression unreadable.

"It's true? They got Prime?" he asked sharply and Prowl nodded mutely.

Their leader was now in the hands of their enemies and there wasn't much they could do about it right now.

"Mirage and Bumblebee are running recon now while we try to hail them and begin negotiations," he said.

"I'll give them some negotiations," he growled, cannons humming.

Prowl let him fantasize that fight for the moment, unable to disagree with his sentiments.

"Sir! We're receiving video/audio feed from the Decepticons!" Bluestreak blurted out, sending the feed to the main screen.

It was the Decepticon throne room, with Megatron seated all high and mighty before the video feed.

"So glad you could join us," he purred, optics flaring with delight. "I've heard rumors that you Autobots enjoy these voyeuristic jaunts and so I've decided to make my own…donation."

The 'Cons filling the room shifted and Optimus was brought forward, hands secured behind his back. His mask was still in place but rather than holding a defiant gaze, his optics had taken on the look of-

"Oh Primus, he fragging planned this, didn't he?" Ironhide scoffed.

After so many months of seeing their leader in his most intimate moments, they'd grown to recognize that look easily enough. Prowl cursed and verified that the feed was one-way before commenting.

"I hope he knows what he's doing, then," he growled. "Probably started figuring it all out when we had Starscream."

He had his rant all planned out but was cut short as his systems revolted against him yet again. This time, Prowl ran for the closest trash receptacle and purged his tanks.

Ironhide just sighed.

"You too?"

The tactician could only nod faintly as he heaved again. Ironhide just shrugged and returned his attention to the screen, his systems automatically taking interest in his leader, despite the circumstances.

* * *

Optimus stepped up to Megatron, giving him a mocking look of defiance. One of his captors kicked the back of his knees, forcing him to the ground as if kneeling to the Decepticon Lord. Optimus gasped in both pain and surprise, hoping he hadn't bit off more than he could chew. When he'd brought up the idea to Starscream so many weeks ago, the Seeker had scoffed, blushed and hadn't said much before finally being let go.

For a moment, Optimus' thoughts were distracted as he remembered how Prowl was waiting in his office for him, asking Prime what that was all about. Oh, Primus, that had been a nice frag, right over his desk, cable slamming into that eager port…

Focus, he needed to focus. Starscream had contacted him later, with Megatron's response and his own plans. Now the Prime knelt before the warlord and his body was keen for what would hopefully happen here, in front of his enemies.

"I've heard a rumor about you, brother," Megatron said. "That you've made yourself the Autobots' slut. Is it true? Have you fragged each and every one of them?"

Optimus smirked behind his mask.

"Not yet," he replied coolly.

Megatron narrowed his gaze, clearly trying to figure Optimus out. Slowly, he leaned forward and brought his hand up to cup Optimus' chin. A moment later, he ripped the mask off the Prime's face. Pain flared across his face but he managed to keep his cry to a mere gasp.

"You could have asked!" he did snarl, though.

Megatron just shrugged as he tossed the torn piece to the side.

"I could have," he drawled and then his optics darkened. "But I _won't_."

Optimus' intakes hitched as he grasped what Megatron meant. For a moment, he didn't move, no one did, but then Optimus leaned forward and pressed his cheek to Megatron's knee, rubbing against it. He mouthed the joint next, glossa tentatively darting out to lick his brother's armor. The room was dead silent as they watched their enemy begin to please their leader.

Megatron spread his legs, allowing Optimus to shuffle closer and begin to mouth the inside of his thighs. All the while, his brother remained silent, dark optics watching almost apathetically. Yet Optimus felt the heat begin to emit from the dark frame, encouraging him further. He reached the apex of Megatron's body but skipped over it, pressing his body against the dark legs while he teased along Megatron's hips instead.

The tyrant growled and a heavy hand grasped Optimus' helm.

"You dare tease me?" he said in a low voice. "You will pleasure me, Optimus, for your fate lies in how well you do so."

"Then give me my hands," Optimus replied, his optics easily meeting his brother's.

Megatron hesitated but then nodded, a guard moving forward quickly to undo the bonds. Optimus slowly brought his hands up, flexing his fingers before sliding his hands up along Megatron's thighs. The darker mech sat back and continued to watch his enemy touch him. The silence of the room was deafening in some ways, as red optics were glued to this bizarre – yet oddly arousing – sight.

Someone's fan cut on. Someone else actually _whimpered_ and Optimus heard all of it. He suddenly whimpered himself as he lapped at Megatron's covered port and cable. His body was beginning to really react and heat up and it took a bare moment for his captor to realize that.

"Open your port," Megatron ordered and Optimus didn't deny him.

He whimpered again as cool air hit his wet port and he heard someone else gasp, making it throb with want. He couldn't deny it. He loved being watched. This was even more intimate than the camera, though, as he shared the same space with his audience. What was killing Optimus, though, was the lack of real response from Megatron. There were no shudders of the frame or quiet moans and sighs. Just the heat of the frame and orders to continue.

But then, the port covering gave way, allowing Optimus access to the wet heat. He moaned audibly and lapped up the juices there while slowly inserting two fingers. There, now was some reaction. Megatron's fans kicked on and there was the slightest of shudders and the widening on his legs. A moment later, Megatron scooted forward slightly, spreading his legs wider as Optimus continued to eat him out.

There was more movement around them as some of the Decepticons gave in to the need to be touching someone else. No doubt Starscream was the instigator, having experienced a taste of this before. Hushed whispers and quiet moans began to echo around them but Optimus focused on pleasuring his brother. A hand slid over his back and he realized he was being touched in return. Maybe not quite like his body desired but that wasn't part of the plan right now.

Megatron began rolling his hips slightly, urging Optimus onward as well as to add a third finger. A stifled groan and the movement increased. Moments later, the tight walls of the port convulsed around Optimus' fingers as he lapped up the flow of juices. To his credit, Megatron barely showed that he had just overloaded in front of everywhere.

Optimus would have to make him feel relaxed enough to just let go. He slowed his hand, giving Megatron time to come off that high but a moment later, the cable covering slid back to reveal Megatron's hardening and leaking spike. Optimus' port quivered with need as the spike kept swelling to its full size. Oh, Primus, he'd forgotten how big his brother was.

He nuzzled it, waiting for Megatron to force him into his lap and to ride that spike.

The command didn't come and Optimus frowned as he began to lick the exposed cable. This wasn't how he had planned this at all. He opened up the long-silent bond to his brother, hoping to egg him on.

_Thank you, brother, for not taking me in front of your soldiers,_ he said timidly. _While I had proposed it to Starscream, I…well, I'm glad I'm able to please you this way._

Optimus cringed at how lame he sounded but it didn't matter. That heavy hand was back, stilling his head. Megatron gave him a burning look before shoving Optimus back, forcing the Prime to land hard on his back.

"You are such the slut," he sneered as he slowly stood, spike jutting out proudly from his frame. "You want to feel my spike and so you mock me…No, Optimus, you will beg for the frag you want so much."

Panting, Optimus stared up at his brother before slowly rolling to his front and pushing up to his knees. He raised his aft up higher, his exposed port glistening in the dull light.

"Frag me," he said in a low whisper.

Megatron scoffed.

"I know your voice can be louder. Now _beg!_"

Optimus whimpered and spread his legs further.

"Please, frag me," he said in a stronger voice. "I want to feel your spike in me, stretching me. Please!"

Megatron smirked before jerking his head to his soldiers.

"We have such a lonely Autobot here," he sneered. "Let's bring some of his friends in, shall we?"

Optimus jerked his head up just as both Mirage and Bumblebee was shoved to the floor before him. They appeared well enough but certainly shell-shocked.

"You, the yellow one," Megatron growled and Bumblebee flinched back, making Megatron laugh. "Don't be so frightened. We're all just having such a great time here that we wanted you to join in, too. Now frag your friend there and we'll all have a time we won't forget."

"Leave them out of this," Optimus growled possessively.

"Oh? Are you jealous, brother? Do you want to frag the smaller one? I don't know if he could handle you but I know my spike would tear him apart easily enough…"

Bumblebee whimpered but Optimus didn't miss the glean of lubricant at the edges of the port covering. Well, that's an unexpected kink. Bumblebee licked his lips and then looked over at Mirage, nodding shakily.

"I'll do it," he said quietly, releasing his spike.

The noble looked flustered and distracted by the surrounding 'Cons. Unlike most of the other Autobots, he didn't have that sort of…voyeuristic tendencies. However, he also knew a rough situation when he saw one. He sighed and nodded as well, laying back to reveal his port.

"No, no, no," Megatron sighed. "On your knees, facing your grand leader so you can watch each other as you're thoroughly…what's the human term? Fuck? Mmm, yes, as you are fucked and taken."

Optimus was about to protest again when two hands grasped at his hips and his port throbbed in anticipation. How the hell did he end up so twisted like this? Aching for his brother's spike while he watched his comrades forced to 'face against their will? Except, they both, despite first appearance, seemed willing enough as Bee's spike took no time to expand and even Mirage released his own in no time at all.

* * *

"Fraggit, is Prime about to be 'faced by Megatron?"

Ratchet's voice broke into Ironhide's intent gaze on the screen. He looked over at his bond mate, only then realizing he'd been rubbing his cable covering with growing arousal. He jerked his hand away and swallowed hard.

"Think Prime's been planning this, actually," he replied in a rough voice.

"Most likely," Prowl added weakly, still kneeling next to the waste receptacle.

"You too?" Ratchet asked, echoing Ironhide's earlier question and Prowl nodded.

Ratchet cursed and shook his head, looking once more at the screen.

"I figured out the virus," he sighed. "It isn't a virus but I had to do some hard research to figure it out because it's all Optimus' fault."

Ironhide stared at the medic.

"What…you mean like an STD or something?" he asked quietly.

Ratchet shook his head, saying, "Not exactly. More like…a Prime thing, or a Matrix thing. The fragger didn't even know he was doing it but by making us more and more relaxed by way of interfacing, he essentially convinced the Matrix that the war was over and all was safe. Basically sending out a signal to all sparks that all was well and…"

Ratchet trailed off and rubbed at his abdomen, looking as if he was going to be ill.

"Ratch?" Ironhide prompted softly, rubbing his lover's back. "What is it?"

"Sparklings."

Everyone in the control room just watched as Ironhide's processor had a logic crash and his large bulk slammed into the floor. Ratchet barely reacted as he monitored their leader on screen. He hoped Optimus really had a plan here to end the war because it was going to get nasty if he didn't.

* * *

Plans were far from Optimus' mind as he waited with bated breath for that large spike to impale him. Even so, his optics were locked on Bee and Mirage as they mirrored the leaders. Bee was just large enough that Mirage would probably reach overload but they really weren't matched well to each other. Optimus wanted to say something to reassure them but he didn't have the chance.

He _howled_ with both pleasure and pain as the blunt, thick spike slammed into his hungry port. This time he also heard Megatron groan and growl as he immediately pulled back, dug his fingers into Optimus' hips and slammed home again. The Prime could barely gasp as the spike slammed over sensitive nodes in his port and stretched him to full capacity, fitting him just perfectly.

His optics briefly focused on Mirage's pleasure-filled face as Bee drove into him from behind. All around him, similar scenarios unfolded as the 'Cons gave over fully to their lustful desires, fragging whoever was closest. The Seeker trine was together, making their own loud cries as two took the one in the middle. Optimus was too far gone to really note who was who.

He made no effort to hide his cries as Megatron drove relentlessly into him and neither did his brother, the angry, possessive growls filling his audials.

"Megatron!" he suddenly gasped, arching up against the mech as the overload hit hard and unannounced.

Fingers clutched at Optimus' frame, denting it for sure as Megatron roared out his own release, hot fluid pouring into Optimus' port, pulse after pulse. He slammed his hips forward a few more time, rolling them, letting the port clutch at the spike a few more times before finally pulling back. He left Optimus panting and tingling, lubricant dripping from his port.

Optimus was faintly aware of Bee gasping and crying out his own overload. He didn't hear Mirage though but he watched as the noble gently moved away from the minibot and forced his hard cable back into its housing. He hadn't overload and Optimus felt his spark go out for the mech. Megatron noticed as well and he smirked.

"I think a certain mech needs a more enjoyable…frag," he said, chuckling.

Mirage's face hardened but he said nothing, not looking at Bee who was oblivious of the problem. Fearing he would need to protect his comrade from Megatron's approaches, Optimus moved forward but then a Seeker was in his way. In a strange turn of events, the Seeker trine had been watching what was happening and now they surrounded the Autobot.

"The Tower mechs are always ours," they growled at both Optimus and Megatron before turning their attention on the noble.

Mirage was just as shocked but was soon caught up as three Seekers showered their attention upon him. Their cries joined the fray of those around them as Optimus remember distantly how the Towers had always been popular with the Seeker faction. Hands grasped at his thighs and Optimus found himself on his back, Megatron thrusting into him again.

"Been a long time," the dark mech growled. "I will get my time's worth from this."

Optimus, panting, tilted his head slightly.

"So you will let us go, then?" he asked as his hands clutched at Megatron's sides.

"Maybe, or I'll just lock you to my berth," he growled.

In the end, Megatron didn't pull out any chains and let the Autobots go, he and his ranks having been fully sated. Optimus and his comrades stumbled from the base and finally had to signal for a pick-up, considering their low energy reserves. He glanced warily at Mirage and Bee as they waited.

"Are you two alright?" he asked softly.

Bee gave Optimus a side-long look. "Best. Frag. _Ever_," he replied, grinning.

Not surprising, considering it was the whole Constructicon gestalt that got a hold of him next. It was Mirage that worried him, though.

Yet Mirage just laughed and stretched.

"Forgot what it was like to be fragged by Seekers," he said lazily.

Content that all was well, Optimus relaxed until he was finally back at the base, where Ratchet proceeded to tear him apart verbally.

"Wait, where's Prowl and Ironhide?" he asked, cutting into the rant, not missing how the medic's glare darkened.

"Ironhide's rebooting after getting the news you're about to get," he growled. "Turns out you released too much tension, Prime, and gave the Matrix the signal that all was well enough for our kind to start reproducing again."

Optimus stared.

"Prowl…?" he asked hesitantly.

"Carrying," Ratchet scoffed. "And so is Bluestreak, Sunstreaker, myself, and Hound, and likely several others including you."

"Who got Sunstreaker-"

"No idea, apparently Jazz had a big party recently with enough illegal high grade to turn it into a massive orgy with Sunstreaker as the star."

The Prime slowly nodded, trying to take this in as he absently rubbed at his abdomen.

"And me?"

"How the hell would I know?" the medic scoffed. "Now come on, I need to check you all out."

Optimus followed even as he wanted to turn around and lock himself in his quarters. This was truly an unexpected turn events and the realization that even _he_ may be carrying changed everything.


	7. Resignition to Consequences

**Author's Note:** You lucky people! Two for the price of one! But here it is, the grand finale! Well...prologue is more like it, but whatever...Again, it has not been beta-ed.

Title: Tension Release  
Summary: With sparklings in the picture now, not everyone reacts the same...  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did.

* * *

Everything had changed.

And Optimus could only accept that it was all his fault. What started as a simple, enjoyable way to relax ended up affecting all of them.

The trouble was, there was no telling if was for better or for worse. Aside from himself, Prowl, Bluestreak, Sunstreaker, Ratchet, Hound, Mirage, and Jazz were carrying sparklings.

Sparklings. Primus above, that was such a strange thought, that after all this time, there would be sparklings born among them. Yet the war wasn't over, despite the lack of any recent battles. How could he bring life into such an uncertain world?

"You're thinking too much again," Prowl sighed from beside him.

At least the berth would never be lonely again. Optimus wrapped an arm around his lover, pulling Prowl onto his larger frame.

"It's just still so much to take in," he sighed quietly. "Prowl, I'm so-"

A finger pressed against his lips.

"If you apologize one more time, I will weld your interface shut," he warned before replacing his finger with his lips. "Besides, I kinda like thinking that the life inside me came from my Prime."

Optimus shuddered and slid his hands along Prowl's frame.

"The world isn't safe enough for any of them, though," he said a moment later.

"Was it ever really safe enough?" Prowl asked before silencing his lover with several more kisses.

* * *

Ironhide sat on the berth, just staring at the floor. He still couldn't believe it and he knew he needed to be supportive of his bond mate – it wasn't like he was mad, anyway. Yet the sparkling wasn't his and he felt at such a loss. It should be his. They're bond mates! But no, the one fling with Starscream is what made it happen, no other time.

Ratchet came into the room, frowning.

"Slag…are you still pouting?" he growled.

Ironhide frowned.

"It should be my sparkling," he said quietly.

Ratchet rolled his optics.

"It is yours, you thick-headed slag-for-processor!" he sighed. "Granted, if you take advantage of the window I told you about a dozen times now, you'll never get your code to it!"

Ironhide shook his head, sighing, "I still have no idea what you're saying and I know I've said that a dozen times, too."

Ratchet gazed at his bond mate and walked slowly over to him.

"Sometimes I forget your aren't a medic, too," he said softly. "What I mean to say is…Starscream sparked the child, yes, but a certain period of time, it receives any and all code given to it. A sparkling could have several Creators…they used to do that ages ago, actually."

Ironhide stared at the medic.

"Wait…so if I frag you right now, I could imprint my code on the sparkling too?"

A gentle slap upside his helm. "Yes, you idiot."

Ironhide pinned Ratchet to the berth and proceeded to do so, letting the whole base know as he roared out his claiming.

* * *

Sunstreaker paced the room, his frustration obvious.

"Would you please just sit down?" Bluestreak asked quietly. "Everyone is going to assume it happened at the party and that…"

The twin stopped.

"That I would never let you be on top?" he finished, shaking his head. "They don't treat you with the respect you deserve."

"But I'm okay with that, Sunny," Blue replied, holding his hand out. "Now please, don't leave us here alone on this huge berth.

"You should listen to him, bro," Sideswipe said as he rubbed his hands up and down Blue's hips, a quiet sigh following. "We know it's his sparkling and he's okay if nobody else knows. So why can't you be okay with it?"

Sunstreaker just gazed at his brother as Blue lazily rode his hard cable.

"I'm amazed that we're even having this conversation while you're fragging him," he sighed.

Blue just laughed. "Seems to be the best time talk with you sometimes," he pointed out.

Sunny shook his head, a smile pulling at his lips before he moved to kneel behind the blue mech.

"How about we make that sparkling both of our's?" he said to his brother as he released his cable. "Maybe I'll even let you lay some claim to mine…"

Bluestreak could hardly argue as he gasped, a second cable slowly joining the first. He loved it when they went possessive on him like this, making him hurt just enough to savor the pleasure even more. He cried out as Sunstreaker began moving hard inside him while Sideswipe rocked his hips to match the pace.

They overloaded together but were barely recovered when Blue slammed Sunstreaker onto his back and slammed his own cable home.

"Make some noise, Sunny, so everyone knows you're being claimed by someone…in fact, you yell out my name or Sideswipe will never have a chance to give his code to our sparkling."

The twin whimpered and then cried out, giving his lover everything he wanted.

* * *

Hound nursed his cube of energon silently, keeping to himself as he idly ran fingers over his abdomen yet again.

A sparkling; His sparkling. He blinked back the tears and considered again sneaking into the med bay and finding something to kill it. Who the frag was he to try and raise a sparkling by himself during a damned-war?

He knew Bluestreak was the sire, but he wasn't about to go and see if the twins would make it a foursome. He didn't care much for the twins anyway. He didn't really care for anyone _in that kind of way_. There had been some good one-night stands, sure, but an actual relationship?

No, he was alone, just as his sparkling would end up being.

He finished the cube and slipped out of the rec room unnoticed. It was late and he could easily hear Ironhide and Ratchet going at it. He headed for the med bay, knowing he'd be caught but hoping by then it'd be too late.

* * *

Jazz blamed the party, of course, for the sparkling. Not that he was upset – far from it. He'd longed for his own sparkling for so long, to raise and care for and teach about all the cool things in the universe.

As it was, he also had already been carrying before the party and it was like he knew it. He didn't drink any of the high grade; he had just wanted everyone to have a good time as usual. Fragging Sunstreaker while sober was perhaps the most delicious part of it, too. But he was fragged enough to know that at least half the Ark could call themselves Creators to his sparkling.

He wondered briefly, as he fingered himself in his quarters, about going to see Prime again and adding to his sparkling's lineage, but knew that Prowl would be very possessive at this point. Which would be interesting, if Megatron really was the sire to Optimus' sparkling.

Jazz gasped as he pushed four fingers into his port now, admitting to himself that it would still be nice to have someone shoving their cable or, oh Primus, their fist, into his port. If Mirage wasn't already dealing with own sparkling via some very possessive Seekers, he'd pursue the noble. Ah, well, one day maybe but for, he had his sparkling and that was enough for him.

* * *

The one mech who wasn't tucked away in his quarters for the night was Mirage. He moved cautiously through boulders of the canyon, knowing he was a little early. Engines roared in the distance and he couldn't help but smile as he dropped his cloak. A moment later, he was surrounded by the Seeker trine, hands caressing him gently.

"We heard you're carrying," Thundercracker whispered.

"Mmm, you heard right," Mirage replied as he gave himself over to them.

Skywarp laughed, saying, "So is Starscream."

The Trine leader paused and scowled at the other two.

"Told you not to say anything," he growled.

"Is it Ratchet's?" Mirage asked as he pawed at Star's chest.

The Seeker nodded.

"Megatron isn't too happy about it all," Skywarp noted. "Apparently that little orgy of ours led to several sparklings."

Mirage laughed. "Yeah, same thing has been happening to us. Optimus is all freaked out because it's actually his fault."

"Figures," Starscream sighed.

"Good plan, though," Thundercracker commented.

"Oh would you all just shut up and make me feel like a noble again?" Mirage sighed.

They did.

* * *

Wheeljack was sulking in his lab. All these sparklings! Just like that! He'd been creating life the hard way and really…not all that well. The Dinobots managed well enough but that had been such a mess. It was he wanted, to be with another and create a little sparkling. Now with this change happening because of the Prime, everyone seemed able to produce new life – except him.

Not for the lack of trying, either. He'd been at that party too and managed a few good 'faces, but Ratchet confirmed that there was nothing to come of it. It was a problem, one the inventor was eager to figure out and fix.

He got to his feet and made his way for the med bay, wanting to see about any surplus transfluid samples he could test with. Wheeljack hadn't expected to run into Hound of all mechs there – in the dark, near an open cabinet.

"Hound?" he called out and noted how the mech went still. What was he up to?

As the inventor drew closer, however, he saw the syringe in Hound's shaking hand. He recognized the formula quickly and he cautiously pulled it from Hound's hand. He never asked why as he gently wrapped his arms around the smaller mech, offering his silent support as Hound broke in his hold.

"I can't do this," he finally whimpered, tears marring his face. "The sparkling….I can't do this, 'Jack."

"Then let me," Wheeljack said gently. "I…I don't think I'm able to carry like you all and I've always longed for my own and…"

Hound slowly looked up at him.

"Adopt it, you mean?" he asked softly, a note of something more in his voice.

Wheeljack lifted his hand, brushing his fingers over Hound's cheek.

"I can adopt you, too, if you'd like," he offered softly.

He meant it, too. Not in the literal sense, but that he would be here for Hound every step of the way. This was one of the few mechs that took seriously in his quest for knowledge, even if that involved an occasional explosion. They'd always gotten along and, well, they had a long history together which also involved an occasional 'face.

Maybe it didn't need to be occasional, only.

Either way, he shared his codes with the sparkling that night, making it his own. And perhaps Hound, too.

* * *

A few months later saw Megatron and Optimus facing each other down. Optimus was just beginning to show and Megatron didn't hide his pointed gaze.

"It's mine, isn't it?" he growled.

Optimus nodded. "Preliminary scans are confirming it now," he replied. "Nine more months and its protoform will be formed and it will be ready for extraction."

On either side of them were their soldiers, but they weren't there for a battle. No, Megatron had called for a meeting. Demanded, really, but Optimus acknowledged the need to speak. The Autobots now had a grand total of twelve mechs carrying; Megatron's had even more. There were suspicions on both sides that there may be twins, too.

Suffice it to say, there were about to be a lot of sparklings born and both leaders were unsure of what to do.

"I'd rather we speak privately," Megatron growled and Optimus nodded.

"That can be arrange," the Prime said.

They ended up in Prime's own quarters with the doors locked. Megatron looked at his brother for a long moment before sliding his hand over the showing abdomen.

"I've been doing a lot of research lately," he said slowly. "About the original cause of the war."

"Pretty sure you started," Optimus said as he slid his hand over Megatron's.

"I picked up where our ancestors left off," he countered. "Anyway, found out it was over a lost bet."

Optimus raised an optic. "A bet?"

Megatron nodded. "I will say my cause was justified enough, but theirs was not."

"Indeed."

"So, a truce should be called for, at least until the sparklings are born and brought to a mature age," he went on, his hand moving from Optimus' and traveling lower. "Our lineage shouldn't face the risk of being extinguished so easily."

"I feel I should be involved in these negotiations," a voice said from behind them.

Optimus smirked as Prowl came up to them, his sparkling showing a bit more.

"Fair enough," the Decepticon Lord drawled and they entered into "negotiations."

As both his lovers were still rebooting, Optimus reflected on how, in the end, he hadn't really found a good tension breaker until now. He smiled and tightened his hold on both Prowl and Megatron, content that things were as they should be at last.

* * *

_Well, folks, thanks for sticking with me! Like I said, it could have been more stretched out and such, but I just can't deal with writing any more smut. Part of me is lying, of course, but it is true that it just is consuming so much from my life that I need to quit. See y'all. ~fin_


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